Transgressions
by SilverCyanide
Summary: The problem isn't that Yuuta doesn't want to be *Fuji's* little brother. It's that Yuuta isn't Fuji's little *brother*.


**CW:** shit that comes with being trans, so like, expect some awkward conversations and some transphobia  
 **Pairing:** Onesided Mizuki-Yuuta (briefly), Atobe-Mizuki for my god damn convenience.  
 **A/N:** not at all confident in my Mizuki voice, but w/e. hit me up with your critiques n thoughts n shit. xoxo

* * *

It's late on a Friday night, well after the end of the season, and the rest of the team is asleep now that the third movie in their marathon has finished playing. Only Mizuki and Yuuta are awake. Even though Yuuta's larger than Mizuki, it's Yuuta's head in Mizuki's lap. Yuuta's hair's gotten a little bit shaggy (though he always cuts it before going home), and Mizuki is gently running his fingers through it.

"Is this okay?" Mizuki asks softly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Yuuta burrows his head a little against Mizuki's thigh and gives a soft sigh. He sounds sleepy, but Mizuki knows he's not tired. It's a problem Yuuta struggles with.

"'s fine," Yuuta says, and then more gently, "'s good, actually."

They stay sitting that way for a while. Mizuki's an insomniac, actual honest to god, but even he's feeling relaxed in the quiet and the dark.

Then, Yuuta fumbles a few moments. Mizuki isn't sure why, until Yuuta grabs hold of his hand. He squeezes it, and Mizuki can't tell if it feels more than friendly or if he's imagining it.

"I like you," Mizuki says impulsively, because if he is ever going to say it, it will be here in the dark. Yuuta stills for a moment, and panic rises in Mizuki, but Yuuta does not pull away.

"You like guys," Yuuta says.

"Yes," Mizuki says. It's not a secret, and he's said it in Yuuta's presence before, though never directly to him.

Yuuta stays where he is for a few moments, before he abruptly sits up. Mizuki's heart sinks.

"I need to tell you something," Yuuta says. His voice is quiet, but almost… hurried, frenzied. Yuuta scoots so he's sitting next to Mizuki. His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them like he is trying to hold himself together.

"I'm… I'm not a guy. I'm a girl."

Mizuki doesn't process anything for a few moments. He's not quite sure he understands what he's heard.

"I… don't understand?" Mizuki says tentatively.

"Forget it," Yuuta says hastily. "Just, forget I said anything, okay? Pretend it didn't happen, please-"

"Yuuta!" he says, loud enough to cut the other teen off but not enough to wake those around them. "I-I want to understand. I just, I need a, um, more information. More data."

Yuuta takes a deep breath. Mizuki can tell Yuuta's trying to work up the courage to not drop the subject.

"So, you've-obviously we've. You've seen me, um, undressed and I'm… my body is a guys. But ever since I was little I've just… I've known that's not right. I'm not a guy. I've never-I don't think I've ever been one. I'm a girl, in my head and um, my heart, and. Yeah."

"Oh," Mizuki says dumbly.

"It's called transgender," Yuuta says, even more softly. Something clicks in Mizuki's brain.

" _Oh_ ," he says. "Okay. I-I don't, um, I don't know a lot about that, but I've heard of the term. and," he says a little more lightly, "I am always interested in learning."

"So you don't hate me?" Yuuta's voice is literally shaking when he (she? Mizuki isn't sure what words to use) speaks. Mizuki wraps an arm around her.

"Yuuta, I couldn't hate you if I tried."

xxxxxx

The hardest thing for Mizuki to come to terms with is not that Yuuta is not the boy he thought; it's getting over his feelings for her. Which is hard, when he gets himself off thinking about Yuuta's toned chest, about wrapping his lips around Yuuta's cock.

The first bad dysphoria day he helps her through is what really makes those dreams stop.

It happens two days before the winter holidays of Mizuki's senior year, when Yuuta is preparing to get her hair trimmed. This in itself is not unusual: she always cuts her hair before she goes home, replacing the longer, shaggy look with short bristles. But the depression sketched across her face is something with which Mizuki is not entirely familiar.

When Mizuki goes to use the bathroom attached to Yuuta's single, he sees that she's covered up the mirror. When Yuuta first came out to him, Mizuki had researched extensively, so the pieces click into place.

"Can I do anything to help?" he asks gently when he comes back out. Yuuta shakes her head.

"I hate this," she says softly. Mizuki does not miss the soft _atashi_ she utters. It makes his heart twinge.

He sits down next to her on the small loveseat at the end of her bed, then wraps his arms around her and pulls her in close. They spend the afternoon and evening curled up like that, Mizuki's inane chatter going on and on over the TV show they're watching as he tries to provide her with some sense of comfort.

xxxxxx

Things go on like that. They are not like that every day, but bad days frequent Yuuta enough that the two of them fall into a routine. Sometimes, it involves sitting together quietly; other times, letting her pound out the pain on the tennis court is the best option.

It's after one of these days, as they're walking back from the courts, that Mizuki finally asks the question that's been nagging at him.

"If… if you always knew," he says, "why did you follow me to a boys team?" Yuuta laughs a little, teeth sharp.

"I don't regret it, if that's what you're trying to get at," she assures him.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Honestly?" Yuuta shrugs. "It's a lot better being on a boys team where I can blend in and pretend when I'm by myself, than it is being unable to escape being someone's 'brother' and… and seeing aniki." She forces a smile at the last bit, and Mizuki doesn't need her to elaborate: she's gone on many rants about how desperately she wishes she could possess even a tenth of the feminine features her elder brother got.

Logically, Mizuki knows none of this is Fuji Syusuke's fault. But partnered with the dislike he already feels toward the other teen, sometimes he still wants to crush Fuji Syusuke with his bare hands so that Syusuke will feel even a small part of the hurt that Yuuta feels.

Instead, he opts to bury the thought and force on a smile as they head to grab dinner.

xxxxxx

It's just past two am on a snowy Saturday night near the end of term in February when the knock comes at Mizuki's door. Despite being awake, it still startles him. He doesn't even bother to flick on the light or put a shirt on before answering the door.

Yuuta is standing in the fluorescent lighting. She is soaking wet, but there's a grin on her face. She pushes into the room, dripping on his linoleum, and Mizuki is grateful he doesn't have a roommate.

" _Yuma_ ," she says. Her grey eyes are bright, her tone fervent. "That's it, that's my name. Yuma."

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Mizuki finds himself grinning as well.

"Yuma," he repeats back, rolling the name around in his mouth. "I like it."

xxxxxx

From then on, in private and in correspondence, Mizuki calls her Yuma. It doesn't take long for "Yuuta" to feel foreign on his tongue. In interest of not outing her, Mizuki texts her one day to ask if there is any in between she'd be comfortable with. She tells him she's been considering just abbreviating to "Yuu" for a while.

By the end of the term, that is what everyone knows her by.

As the end of term rolls around, Mizuki cannot pretend he is not nervous about going to high school and leaving Yuma behind. He knows she is strong-a hell of a lot stronger than he is, if he's being honest-but they have grown close over the past six months. He knows it could be worse; they are just across campus from one another. But it feels like too much distance, especially on Yuma's bad days.

Despite this, Yuma does well. Mizuki can't say she thrives, not with dysphoria constantly creepy down her neck and family pressures to move back home pressing on her. But she makes a hell of a vice captain for the tennis team and, even when they get knocked out early, continues to train her very best and encourage the rest of the team.

It's toward the end of the summer holiday, when Mizuki is out shopping, that she calls him-not once, not twice, but _five_ times in a row. When he finally picks up, her voice is shaky as she says, "I just told Atsushi-senpai."

Mizuki's eyes widen. "How did it go?"

Yuma is quiet for a moment. Then she says, "Okay, I think. It… he… asked a lot of questions. But I think it's okay."

"I'm glad," Mizuki says. Something twinges inside of him, telling him he is no longer special and precious to Yuma in the way he previously was, but he does his best to push it down. Yuma having a greater support network is always a good thing, after all.

Mizuki can practically see Yuma's sharp gaze softens as his response.

"Me too," she says, and that is that.

xxxxxx

Though she has other close friends to whom she is not out, the next person Yuma comes out to is none other than Atobe Keigo.

Despite attending different schools and being in vastly different leagues, there is something about Mizuki that Atobe has always found infuriating and attractive. Mizuki, for his part, has no qualms with this, and when Atobe strode into his texts asking him for coffee six months prior, he readily accepted.

Four months in, Mizuki cancels one of their rare in person dates in order to stay back with a "sick Yuuta." While Atobe has done his best to respect their friendship, it has always rubbed him a bit strangely (as have the long held rumors that Yuuta and Mizuki were involved). Still, Atobe does his best to believe Mizuki and not let paranoia get to him, so he has his chef whip up some okayu and goes by to drop it off.

When Mizuki answers the door to find Atobe, in his slacks and silk shirt, standing under the fluorescent dorm lighting and holding tupperware, he cannot help but be surprised. He smiles a little, automatically, but then Yuuta pipes up, "Who is it?"

Yuuta doesn't sound sick. Atobe's smirk darkens. Something hot and dark writhes within his chest.

"Should I be going?" Atobe asks brusquely. Mizuki hesitates.

"It's… complicated," he says finally. "Can you give me a minute?" Despite not wanting to, Atobe does the rational thing and agrees. Mizuki shuts the door to his dorm and disappears for a few minutes; Atobe can hear the pair talking, the way voices even raise, though he cannot make out the words.

Finally, Mizuki answers the door again. But instead of just ushering Atobe in, he also lets Yuuta out into the hallway. The younger teen is completely bundled in a heavy blanket, despite the early fall warmth. As soon as the door is closed behind Atobe, Mizuki turns to him.

"There is something you need to understand," Mizuki starts. Atobe goes to reply, but Mizuki cuts him off. "No, just listen." This is not Atobe's strong suit, but the look in Mizuki's eyes is fierce, so Atobe silences himself.

"Yuu's my best friend. You know this. But that makes what I'm about to tell you extremely important. I'll understand if you can't accept it, but I trust if that's the case that you'll still be discreet in handling this information."

Atobe wants to speak, but instead he nods. He is nothing if not tactful.

"The thing about Yuu is… Yuu's really a girl. She's transgender." Atobe's brain blanks. When he does not immediately comment, Mizuki continues. "It's where you're born in a body that doesn't line up to the gender you feel in your heart," he explains. "It's kind of like being gay, only… it's not."

"Oh." Atobe's brow is a little furrowed. "Well, that's fine."

Mizuki's eyebrows raise. "She's not gay," he repeats. Atobe nods.

"No, no, I understand. She's transgender." When Mizuki stares, disbelieving, Atobe adds, "My family does plenty of business abroad you know. They're more public about these things overseas."

Tears spring to the corners of Mizuki's eyes. In a heartbeat, he is laughing.

"I feared telling you," Mizuki admits around his glee. "Give me a second-I'm going to go get Yuu."

And just like that, Atobe has become part of her support system as well.

xxxxxx

Dedicated to helping her in any way he can, Mizuki and Atobe call in multiple favors to make sure Yuma ends up in the single mixed gender residence hall when she gets into high school. It's a small wing, mainly comprised of siblings and students with accommodation needs, but Yuma moves into her single with a grin on her face. Mizuki pretends it was all a coincidence, and though Yuma's smart enough to know otherwise, she doesn't bring it up.

Unfortunately, that good mood only lasts until the summer. Right before the summer holidays of her first year in high school, Yuma stares into the mirror forlornly. She cut her hair a few months back for the spring holidays, so it's not even that long. But she knows it's still long enough for questions. She's preparing to go out and get it cut, and Mizuki is sitting on her couch

"Don't cut it," he says from the other room. Yuma has one hand fisted in her hair when she comes out of the bathroom.

"I have to."

"Why?" Yuma opens her mouth to respond, but closes it. "Who's going to be bothered if your hair's a little bit longer?"

Yuma's hand drops. Her lips press together.

"I-just, they'll… they'll question me."

Mizuki shrugs. "So?" he says nonchalantly. "Just tell them you like it longer. Tell them you're trying it out. It's not like no one's ever grown their hair long. Hell, your brother's hair got long enough he could tie it back; he can't give you shit about you growing yours out."

Yuma laughs, but it's full of self-hatred. "Yeah, but he's _feminine_."

"Bullshit," Mizuki says plainly. "So're you."

Yuma flops down on the couch next to him. She slumps, resting her weight against his shoulder.

"I'm just scared," she says softly. Mizuki wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"I know," he says. "That's okay. But-you're just… you're miserable when you cut it. And you don't deserve that, and if you can avoid it then you might as well, right?"

Yuma sighs. "Yeah," she says softly. "Yeah, I know you're right."

Mizuki smiles slightly and pulls her in even closer for a hug.

xxxxxx

Yuma's not entirely wrong: her family does make comments on her hair when she goes home. But they're all about how nice it looks, or casual comments about her deciding to grow it out, instead of actual judgement. That doesn't stop her from being anxious the entire time she's there though, sure that someone can tell, and that they'll find her out for the "fraud" she is. Yuma hates how much she worries about it.

She's lost in worry her third night home when eating dinner with her brother, sister, and mother. The conversation is mostly pleasant small talk, with a little bit of teasing from Yumiko toward Syusuke. (She has left Yuma alone, because unlike Syusuke can sense how uncomfortable it makes her.) Despite her anxiety, the whole situation is pleasant enough.

And then, almost out of nowhere, Syusuke says, "Oh, did I mention that Eiji and Oishi are officially dating now?"

Yuma almost chokes on her bite of vegetable. Yumiko grins.

"Oh that's _wonderful_ ," she says. "They always seemed to get on so well." Syusuke nods.

"Apparently they've been together a couple of months now, but they only just told us," Syusuke reveals. "I was a little surprised, but they seem really happy together. Happier."

"Good for them," Yuma says a little gruffly when she comes back to herself. Syusuke opens his eyes to look at her; she averts her own.

"It is," he says, his tone unreadable. "It really is."

xxxxxx

Despite not cutting her hair, the dysphoria over break is particularly debilitating. Yuma spends more than one night lying awake, desperately researching self-orchiectomy and plucking at her facial hair until she has open sores.

Getting back to school and her few female possessions should help, but it doesn't. Being in her space is supposed to let her breath again, but she can't. She's still drowning.

Mizuki has to push his way into her room. Thankfully the door is unlocked. He finds Yuma's travel bag is dropped in the doorway, almost as if she's just gotten back. Half of Yuma's wardrobe is strewn across the floor. And then there is Yuma herself, curled into a lump beneath the comforter on her bed. Mizuki frowns.

"Yuma?" he says. She doesn't budge. "Yuu?" he tries again. Still no response. Carefully, Mizuki weaves himself through the disaster zone until he reaches her bed. He prods the blanket lump. Yuma turns a little but doesn't come out. Mizuki swallows down some fear. He sits down on the edge of the bed. Not knowing what else to do, he settles in and waits.

About ten minutes later, Yuma emerges from the safety cocoon. Mizuki can see why she didn't want to entertain company; there are dark circles under her eyes and her hair is unkempt despite its shortness. She's wearing an overlarge hoodie she's stolen from a rival team's locker room at some point, and the blue plaid flannel pajama pants that Mizuki bought her as a birthday gift. Her hair is limp and greasy, and her skin is pale, though the little places she's picked it open are still evident. Yuma tries to smile, but it falls flat and doesn't reach her eyes.

"Ah, sorry for the mess," she says. Her voice shakes a little bit. Mizuki shakes his head.

"Do you want to talk about what's going on?" Mizuki says gently. He is not usually someone people frequent to discuss their problems, but Yuma is an exception to many things.

Yuma shrugs. "Just gender bullshit." Mizuki's sharp gaze softens a tad. "It's just...being home is hard, but I thought I'd feel better when I came back and I… I didn't. Don't." The lack of feminine pronouns in her speech throws Mizuki. Usually, when it is just the two of them, she defaults to them.

"Well for starters," he says, trying to keep his voice light, "using _atashi_ might help."

Yuma shakes her head. "What does it _matter_ though? I'm always going to be a boy. It's ridiculous for me to pretend otherwise."

"Don't you dare convince yourself that." Mizuki's voice has taken on a harsher edge. "It's bullshit and you know it." Yuma shrugs.

"It's not. I'm never going to destroy my family like that." Mizuki rolls his eyes.

"So they get another daughter instead of a second son. I'm sure they'll deal with it." But, again, Yuma shakes her head.

"It's not… it's not just that. It'd be _fine_ , if I could magically _become_ that daughter. But instead, I've got to be this… this disgusting _in between_ , where I'll never look like a real girl, no matter how hard I try." There are little tears in the corners of Yuma's eyes, and she when she squeezes them shut the tears fall down her face. Mizuki reaches out and covers her hand with his.

They sit like that for a little while, just drinking in each other's company while Yuma cries herself out. It does not last long; Mizuki suspects she has been crying on and off all day.

"I just hate this body," she eventually mutters. "It's just… it's shaped wrong. And it's getting worse." Mizuki wants to protest in order to reassure her, but he knows it's true: puberty has started to hit Yuuta especially hard, broadening her shoulders and jaw as well as darkening her body hair.

"I'm sorry," he finally says. Yuma takes a deep breath and shrugs.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped today." Despite her earlier refusal, Mizuki does not miss how she has switched to the feminine pronoun. He gives her hand a squeeze, and she smiles slightly.

That evening, Yuma falls asleep early. Instead of letting himself out, Mizuki decides to spend the night, and hunkers down in her bathroom with the door shut for his nightly call with Atobe. Atobe mostly fills Mizuki in on nonsense drama with his friend group, before the pair falls into silence. Mizuki shakes himself out of it, even as exhausted and emotionally drained as he is.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean for-I know I'm not good conversation right now."

"Certainly nothing to apologize for," Atobe says. "And I am quite confident when I say your presence is always enjoyable for me."

Mizuki laughs a little, but it's too bitter. He holds the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he can press his palms to his eyes.

"I just don't know how to help her," he says, distraught, referencing Yuma. "She-I can't _do_ anything. I can't _fix_ this! I… all I can do is listen. And-I do, I do, but it's just so _frustrating_ , because it doesn't help her either! It just… she's at the point, I'm not sure she can do anything but spiral," Mizuki admits lamely. He sighs, knocking his head back against the tub. Atobe hums thoughtfully.

"How is she spiraling?" he asks. Mizuki sighs.

"It's just-dysphoria," he says. "All of the things about her appearance that are wrong. But it's. . . you know if your hair's out of place, you can't stop thinking about it or trying to fix it?" It's a common enough experience for both of them, so Atobe makes a noise of agreement.

"It's like that, except ten times worse, and when she looks in the mirror or down at her body and sees how _wrong_ it is she can't just comb it or add more product. And…" Mizuki sighs. "Not only can she not do that, it's not even like there's an easy fix or a fix she can access. There are just so many hoops to jump through with therapists and paperwork, and we're still minors, and we don't know if her family is supportive, so it's a shitshow." One of Mizuki's hands is fisted in his hair, tugging hard on it.

"Stop tugging on your hair," Atobe says, firm but gentle. Even through the phone, he can tell when Mizuki's default to these habits.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Thanks."

"Close your eyes," Atobe instructs, and Mizuki does. "Two deep breaths." Atobe's tapping on a tablet in the background can be heard.

"Does she-she needs to go through traditional methods?" Atobe asks a few minutes later. He can hear the confused frown Mizuki is making, because he clarifies, "Transitioning, for Yuma."

Mizuki considers, brow furrowed. "I. . . don't know. I'm… I don't know if that's ever been a considerable option. Outside of, um, self-procedures which-"

"She's hurt herself?" That alarm is something so few people get to hear from from Atobe, and Mizuki appreciates it even when things are bad.

"No, no, she hasn't," Mizuki says. "At least, not in a big way and not yet. She's just neglected a lot of self-care things just because they're too hard." Mizuki sighs, and he wishes that Atobe was here with him. Atobe hears it without a word.

"Would there happen to be room for me there?"

Mizuki considers, but only for a moment. "If you're willing to sully yourself on the floor."

On the other end, Atobe smiles. "Then I suppose I'll be seeing you soon."

Not long after Atobe arrives, Mizuki ends up falling asleep on Atobe's shoulder, then slips down so he's lying across Atobe's lap. Atobe just does a lot of googling, just getting his hands on every shred of information he can get about trans services, both in Japan and worldwide.

Yuma wakes up before Mizuki, given she fell asleep so much earlier. She's a little surprised to see Atobe, but not too much: this isn't the first time she's woken up to Atobe on her floor or at her kitchen table or even in her shower. She just smiles a little, sleepy and still with sad eyes. When she gets up to get a glass of water, Atobe watches her: sees the dark circles under her eyes; the long, thick hair that hangs limp from lack of care; the smallest bit of chipped nail polish on two of her toenails.

Yuma doesn't offer Atobe anything; she knows that if he needs or wants something, he is confident enough to ask. She comes back over to the couch, sitting crosslegged and thumbing through her phone. Atobe just smiles a bit, the type that looks cocky, but is simply his default smile. Yuma isn't concerned.

Atobe makes a small noise in the back of his throat. Yuma looks up, brow a little furrowed.

"Money isn't an object for me," Atobe says. Yuma can't help it when she snorts.

"Yeah, I picked up on that," she says. Atobe presses on, not at all bothered.

"Influence isn't either-in situations where money cannot access that, of course."

"I'm sure it's nice," Yuma says, not rudely, but she's just not sure where Atobe's going with this.

"Things that are difficult to access are far easier and more discrete."

"Look-I'm sorry, I-you're going to have to actually say what you mean," she says. "I'm not good at the whole subtext thing." Atobe chuckles, but it's pleased.

"People dislike asking for favors, and they dislike taking money, or being gifted it. While I certainly understand the premise of reciprocation or repayment, those social contracts only exist in situations where it is clear, through whatever means, that both parties are in agreement. I want you to know that there would be no obligation, whatsoever, at any point, nor should such be deemed something petty and self-deprecating such as 'charity.'"

Yuma's expression has continued to grow more and more bewildered as Atobe speaks. He doesn't seem to fully catch on that she doesn't understand.

"That's, um, nice, Atobe-san, but I'm like, doing all right at the moment, so-"

"You need to transition." Yuma's voice drops off, mouth going slack in surprise. "Not-that is not my personal opinion on your life and decisions," Atobe clarifies, "As I certainly am not fit nor welcome to make such decisions or assertions. But it seems clear, from your behaviors and Hajime's assessment's of them, that not doing so is causing very measurable harm."

Yuma manages to pick her jaw back up, but she doesn't say anything. Atobe does not continue. The ball is in her court.

Finally, after many long minutes of silence, she says, "I can't take that."

"Why not?" Atobe asks, smooth. Yuma can tell he's preparing to dismantle her objections.

"It's just...it would be so much…" she mutters. Atobe clicks his tongue.

"I believe I have already explained the myriad reasons it would not be." Yuma shrugs and picks at one of her toenails.

Finally, almost too quiet tell, she says, "I'm scared." Atobe's attention picks up, but he waits. For all he loves instant gratification, he has excellent timing.

"I'm. . .I'm afraid that-that if I go ahead with-with any of it, that I'll lose. . . everything. Or everyone. I don't know. My family and-and it's. . . it's better to just live as a man the rest of my life instead of some disgusting shemale and just. . ." She stops talking to keep herself from falling down the tunnel of crying.

Atobe processes this, thinks it through. He's certainly not her-he's never going to be, and he knows, if he were in her position, that he would be saying the exact same thing. He knows that, while he can see it as himself having far more at stake than she does, that isn't how she feels, and rightfully so. He looks down at Mizuki, still asleep with his head in Atobe's lap. He looks back up at Yuma.

"Would you be interested in taking a walk?" he asks finally. Yuma glances up, no tears, but looking strained.

"Right now?" she clarifies.

"Preferably. There's. . . I'd rather continue this conversation but ensure Hajime sleeps."

Yuma nods. She pulls herself together quickly, unwashed hair in a ponytail, but wearing jeans at least. Atobe carefully settles Mizuki with a blanket as his new pillow, and the two of them head out of the dorm and into the early morning sun.

"Apologies for dragging you out," Atobe says casually. Yuma shakes her head, bangs sweeping out of her face.

"No, it's good," she says. "I haven't left my room since I got back from break, so I was due to get out soon."

Atobe nods, hands in his pockets. They continue to walk in silence for a few blocks.

"I would like to ask you a question," Atobe begins. "It's an uncomfortable and personal question, and I will understand if you opt not to answer, but I'd still like to ask it." Yuma shrugs. She knows Atobe will continue anyway.

"How frequently have you seriously thought about killing yourself these past few months?"

Yuma is, as Atobe predicted, a bit taken aback. Atobe lets her take her time.

Finally, she says, "I couldn't put a number on it. Too many times to count." Atobe nods.

"Two years ago, I tried to kill myself," Atobe says. Unlike when he usually shares personal information, this does not sound so lofty. "I didn't succeed-obviously-and my attempt at self-poisoning just left me in a very private hospital room over the first half of the Christmas holidays, and confined to house arrest for the rest.

"I had the privilege to find an excellent treatment team, and only on occasion do things feel quite as bad as they did at the time. I will not pretend that I know what you are going through in the same way. We live quite different lives. But if I can alleviate even a percentage of someone else's suffering, especially when there is no real cost for myself, then I would truly, truly like to."

Atobe does not say anything more. He just lets her process this, knowing she will respond when she is ready.

"What if it doesn't help?" she finally says. "What if it just gets worse?"

Atobe shrugs with one shoulder. "Then we go from there. But despite all things, I do not for a moment believe that you would have ever, ever ended up at this point if you were not absolutely confident in who you are."

By herself, it's unlikely Yuma would have followed up. But Atobe Keigo is a man of his word, and so in just a few weeks she has a Skype appointment with "the nation's best therapist on gender issues."

xxxxxx

It takes less than two sessions for the therapist, a kindly young woman named Akiyama-sensei, to agree that Yuma is both definitely transgender and definitely in need of transition. Unfortunately, even with Atobe's influence, she'll need the legal support of her family in order to access hormones. The pair making coming out to them Yuma's primary goal at the moment.

Despite all her careful planning, Yuma comes out to Syusuke first. It's a weekend in the middle of fall, three months since she started therapy. It's quarter past nine, but the house is quiet and it's dark and still outside. Yuma's texting a friend as she walks into the kitchen to get some water.

"Hi Yuuta," Syusuke says softly. Yuma's head shoots up. Syusuke's sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. His eyes are half open.

"Hey," she says awkwardly, trying to smile. She grabs a glass out of the cabinet and starts to fill it.

"It's good to have you home," Syusuke says. His voice is still gentle. Something about it has always infuriated Yuma, and it still does.

"Yeah," she says, shrugging a bit. She turns the tap off and takes a sip. She doesn't want to turn and see her brother just yet.

"I'm serious, Yuuta," Syusuke says firmly. "I miss you during the school year. I've only got so long until I go off to university and eventually we'll both have separate lives. It'd be nice to see more of my little brother."

What was mild irritation _flares_ at the word 'brother'. "I'm not your fucking brother," Yuma spits, setting her glass down with some force. She turns around. Syusuke's eyes are wide. He swallows. His hands shake.

"I'm sorry," Syusuke says, calm and cold. "I forgot that being related to me was such an awful thing."

Yuma just stands there, frozen. She feels like Syusuke can see right through her. It's terrifying.

Without thinking, she bolts. She's two blocks down the street before she realizes she's only wearing socks. The cold isn't awful because there isn't much wind, but it's still brisk out. She tucks her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and pulls out her phone.

Mizuki answers on the second ring.

" _Yuma?"_ he says, sounding concerned, because they talked a few hours ago and she does not call at this hour usually. " _What's going on? Is everything okay?"_

Yuma opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out are sobs. Mizuki cannot touch her, but he reassures her verbally, reminds her that she will be okay, and tries to get her to calm down, to breathe.

" _That's it, that's good,"_ Mizuki says, gentle and soothing in the tone he always uses to help her when she is so upset.

"Thanks," she says softly. She's shivering and leaning against a light post, curling and uncurling her toes.

" _You want to tell me what happened?"_ Mizuki prods gently. Yuma knows he'll let it go if she doesn't. She also knows that she needs to.

"I fought with Aniki," she murmurs. "I. . . it was my fault."

" _I'm sure it wasn't-"_

"No, it was," she says firmly. "I… he was talking about how he wishes we saw each other more, and yeah that was kind of irritating, but then. . ." Yuma sighs. Just thinking about this hurts.

" _Yes?"_

"Then he-he called me his little 'brother' and just…" Mizuki makes a noise that makes Yuma sure he's cringing.

" _I'm so sorry_."

"It's my fault," she says, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie where it's still running. "I shouldn't have freaked out. I just… _fuck_ , I hate it, I hate it, I _hate this!_ "

" _I know,"_ Mizuki says. " _I know."_

They are both quiet for a minute, while Yuma just processes and Mizuki keeps her company. Finally, Mizuki says, " _You could always tell him."_

"I can't."

" _It's better than letting him think you hate being related to him,"_ Mizuki reasons, trying to be gentle and respectful of how hard this topic is.

"He'll hate me!"

" _So what?"_ Mizuki argues. " _If he does, who cares? I mean yeah, you do, because he's your family, but thinking you don't want to be related to him is probably worse. You'll lose him that way too."_

Yuma goes quiet. Mizuki is afraid he has ruined everything. Yuuma starts to sniffle.

"You're right," she admits. "I'm just… I'm scared."

" _I know. It's okay to be."_ Another sigh. " _And you have people who care about you and love you as you are, even if this does go wrong."_

"Okay," Yuma says. She chokes on the syllable at first, but she gets it out. "Okay." Her toes are going numb now. "I should get back," she mutters. I'll talk to you later. Thanks."

As soon as she gets home, she removes her wet socks and tosses them next to shoes. She'll clean them up later. Right now, she realizes how cold she is. (She should take a bath, she thinks, but the thought brings dysphoria rearing its head, so she pushes that idea down.) Instead, she goes to make a cup of tea.

Syusuke is still in the kitchen, this time at the stove heating the kettle. Yuma clears her throat.

"Could I, um, have a cup?" she asks tentatively. Syusuke doesn't turn round.

"Sure," he says, gentle but detached. Yuma sits down in the seat across from where Syusuke was sitting earlier. The kitchen is quiet save for the whistle of the kettle and the clinking of glasses as Syusuke lays out tea. He even pours Yuma's cup for her. Yuma wraps her hands around it, letting the warmth seep in, knowing that it's still too hot to drink.

Surprisingly, but true to habit, Syusuke sits down in the chair across from her. He doesn't look at her, but she can feel his intense focus.

"I'm sorry," Yuma says. It sounds too loud in the quiet kitchen. Syusuke doesn't say anything. Yuma's stomach's in knots. "I… I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm sure you didn't," Syusuke says coolly. Yuma's heart is beating, her mouth is dry, and her whole face feels hot.

"I didn't!" she insists. She realizes she's shouted and lowers her voice. "I… I didn't mean I'm not _your_ brother. I meant…" She takes a deep breathe. "I meant I'm not your _brother_."

Syusuke stares at her, eyes open and calculating. Yuuma tries to meet his gaze, but falters and looks away. She feels like she's going to puke.

The silence remains. She takes a sip of her tea, and burns her tongue. Figures.

"Please say something," she says. "Please, aniki. Anything."

Syusuke presses his lips together. "I… don't understand," he admits. He sounds almost nervous. Yuma presses her palms to her eyes to try and stop the tears from welling up.

"I'm not a boy" she says. Her voice is shaking. She's just used the feminine pronouns. "In-in my heart and my head, I know I'm a girl, not a boy, like. . . like, my soul was put in the wrong body."

"So, you're gay?" Syusuke asks. Yuma knows he's trying to get it, knows this is a normal assumption, but shakes her head.

"No. I mean . . . well, sort of, but not. . . that's not what this is. I'm not a feminine gay man. I'm a woman. It's um… it's called being transgender."

Syusuke is quiet. His eyes have closed. Yuma is afraid she won't hear him if he speaks, because the pounding of her heart is so loud.

"It means I'm your sister," she finally says. Syusuke nods, barely.

"Okay," he says. "I. . . I won't pretend I totally understand right now, but okay. I love you no matter what, if you're my brother or my sister or my-well, anything. We're family."

The tears well up. Yuma nods. When Syusuke comes around the table to hug her, for the first time in a long time, she lets him.

xxxxxx

She's been in therapy just over four months when she tells Yumiko. Yuma decides to spend the first weekend of winter break with her older sister, because Yumiko lives closer to school. It is the perfect time for Yuma to come out.

Yuma's sitting on the couch of her sister's apartment, one leg tucked under her thigh. Yumiko's grabbing herself a diet coke and Yuma a water. She tosses it, and Yuma catches it with practiced ease. The TV gameshow they were watching switches to a commercial just as Yumiko sits back down. Yuma, who has been building up to this mentally the past few minutes, takes a deep breath.

"I need to tell you something," Yuma says. Yumiko turns, looking at her curiously. Yuma swallows hard. This is, finally, her moment. "I'm transgender. I'm a girl."

There is one horrible, tense moment, and then Yumiko's smiling and hugging her. "Oh Yuu," she says, "are you okay? Who else knows?"

Yuma nods. Her heart is still pounding. "Just-a few people. Friends, mostly. And, um, aniki." There are still nerves jittering under her skin.

"I'm glad you're comfortable enough to tell me," Yumiko says. "I love you, you know that?"

Yuma nods. There are tears prickling their way up. "T-thank you," she says, and her voice cracks, so Yumiko pulls her in close and hugs her tight. Yuma is technically larger than Yumiko, but in these moments it does not feel like it.

After a few minutes, Yumiko asks softly, "When are you going to tell mom and dad?"

Yuma fiddles with her hands, staring at them intently. "I...was thinking, maybe over break."

"You can tell them on your own time," Yumiko says, backtracking. "They aren't going anywhere." Yuma shakes her head.

"I can't," she says. "I'm...things have… I've been miserable," she admits quietly. "And I really want to get on hormones. But I can't do that without their permission."

"Wow," Yumiko says quietly. "I-I believed you, when you just told me, but I didn't. . .I guess I didn't realize how serious you are about this."

Yuma flushes but nods. "I've spent fifteen years of my life in hiding," she explains. "I just… don't want to do it anymore."

"Well, I'm happy for you, Yuu," Yumiko answers.

Yuma's only response is, "Me too."

xxxxxx

Winter break comes and goes. Despite Yuma's best intentions, she doesn't come out to her parents over the break. Her therapist is disappointed, but they work on building her confidence over the next few months. When her birthday rolls around, it presents the perfect opportunity for her to test it out.

She tells Yumiko her plan in the car on the way home. She won't spring it on them right away, instead planning to tell them Sunday afternoon before she heads back. It's enough time built in to answer questions, but also little enough time to allow her to escape if things go south. It's as foolproof a plan as she'll get.

That's what she thinks, until her mother and father walk into her room together on Saturday night. In her father's hands is a familiar stack of papers: the trans resources she had printed off to use tomorrow. Yuma's blood runs cold. Her mother quietly closes the door.

"Good evening," she says into the quiet. She cannot read either parents' face.

"Yuuta-" her father starts, as her mother rushes out, "Darling, we need to talk."

Reluctantly, Yuma sits up from where she's been curled up in bed playing phone games. Her father pulls the desk chair over and sits; her mother settles for perching at the end of the bed.

"Would you like to explain these?" Her father's voice is melodic but firm. He gestures with the documents. Yuma swallows and her throat feels like sandpaper.

All of Yuma's carefully prepared sentences fly out the window. In a shaky voice, she replies, "I was going to give them to you tomorrow." Her mother gives a small gasp, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. Yuma burns with shame. She looks down at her lap.

"I'm transgender," she says into the stillness of the room. "I'm your daughter." All thoughts of needing their approval for transition fly out of her mind. She is just hoping they won't hate her.

"Yuuta, darling," her mother starts, tone almost casual, "are you sure you're not just confused, sweetheart? If...if you like men, that's all right, you don't have to be a woman."

It is not a bad response, but tears still prickle at her eyes.

"I'm not confused," she says, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Her phone buzzes loudly, startling the room out of silence. Her mother laughs nervously.

"Yuuta," her father begins, "if this is true, you're very ill." He sounds sincere, but it doesn't stop the bubble of anger that swells up in Yuma. "Your mother and I clearly have a lot we need to discuss, but I think we can all agree that you need to start seeing a therapist to work out these issues."

I've been seeing a therapist," she counters tersely. "You-you can't _change_ this, Tou-san. I'm not broken. My body just doesn't match the rest of me yet." Her father frowns.

Her mother chimes in, "What do you mean by 'yet', Yuuta?"

It's that moment that Yuma says to hell with it and decides to drop the bombshell.

"I want to go on hormones and get surgery." Tears fill her mother's eyes. Her father clears his throat.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he says. "You're still young, Yuuta. These...procedures-" he gestures with the documents once more "-are risky and permanent. This sort of thing would really impact your future. Your ability to get married and have children. Is that what you want?"

"It's better than the alternative." Yuma's whole body feels too hot.

"Darling..." her mother says, trying to calm Yuma down, "your father and I are just concerned. This is all very new to us."

Some of the fight in Yuma dissipates.

"I know." She exhales. "I'm not saying tomorrow or anything. But I need you both to understand that this is who I am-who I've always _been_ -and that if I could ignore this any longer I would, but I can't." Yuma nods toward the stack of resources. "Those are for you," she says with returning confidence. "Please read them." She pauses a beat, then says, "I'd like to go to bed now please."

"Of course." Her father replaces the desk chair, still gripping the stack of papers. He wishes Yuma goodnight and leaves. Her mother lingers.

"I love you," she says, standing in Yuma's doorway. Yuma does not respond. Her mother clicks off the light.

Yuma rolls over and cries herself to sleep.

xxxxxx

They don't talk about it again until the spring break between semesters. When Yuma arrives home, there is a tension in the air that still hasn't dissipated from their fight a month ago. Yuma sees it in the lines on her mother's face, the tenseness in her father's shoulders. Part of her feels guilty for causing them such stress, but an even greater part screams that she is just doing what she has to in order to survive.

They barely make it until after lunch when her father asks if Yuma if the two of them are available to talk. Yumiko gives Yuma a sharp look, and Syusuke even opens his eyes-Yuma expects Yumiko, in her nature, filled Syusuke in. Yuma nods and grunts her assent.

"Yuuta," her father begins, "Your mother and I are really trying." He sits down behind his desk, folding his hands. Yuma stands awkwardly, because sitting feels too vulnerable.

He continues, "You've certainly done your research. I believe you when you say you've felt this way for a long time." Fuji-san gives an almost imperceptible smile. "Your mother used to have dreams, when she was pregnant with you, that you were a girl. She was so sure that the ultrasound was wrong when it came back you weren't." He chuckles a little.

"We have… talked, with other parents. There's… a support group, at one of the clinics you listed here in Tokyo. Your mother and I…" He takes a breath. "I will not pretend we fully understand. But you've made your feelings clear, and we've-there are so many stories of people losing children. We love you, Yuuta. That's the last thing we want to happen."

Yuma realizes she's been holding her breath. She exhales, shaky.

"What… does that mean?" she finally asks, after a moment of silence.

"We're still not sure how we feel about the, ah, medical aspect of things," he admits. "But if there are… social things you'd like us to adjust, your mother and I are open to talking about it."

It's not enough, but it is so much better than what Yuma had been expecting. She cannot stop the grin that breaks over her face. Before she can stop herself, she's behind her father's desk and hugging him.

"Thank you," she whispers. Her father's grip tightens a fraction.

"We love you," he reiterates. "If that means we have to love you as our daughter instead of our son, we'll learn how to do that." Yuma starts sobbing.

For the first time in years, Fuji Yuma realizes that things are going to be okay.


End file.
